


Solis

by venomondenim



Series: venom's starker collection [4]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Aged-Up Peter Parker, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Bonding, Dr. Strange is a brief but important character, Fluff, Grief/Mourning, Happy Ending, Loss of Soulmate, M/M, Not Spider-Man: Homecoming Compliant, Peter Parker Whump, Peter's in college and 19 when him and Tony meet for the first time, Pining, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Protective Tony Stark, Resurrected Tony Stark, Soul Bond, Soulmates, Starker, The Blip, Titan, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, first words soulmates, soul bonding, the snap, things all work out and it's cute in the end i promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:14:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24952138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/venomondenim/pseuds/venomondenim
Summary: Sometimes, it was hard not to look at Peter like he was the sun.(A Soulmate Fic)
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark, Spider-man/Ironman
Series: venom's starker collection [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2054016
Comments: 17
Kudos: 249





	Solis

**Author's Note:**

> I originally posted this work as a chaptered fic while I was working on it because I didn't really have a clear idea as to where I was going, I just needed to get the first part up and out so I could breathe for a minute. I went on sort of a rampage, writing nonstop Starker oneshots for three days, and all of that writing juice led me right back here. If you would have asked me the other day if I was going to finish this, I most likely wouldn't have had a clear answer for you. While I loved the idea, finishing this fic felt daunting. Thankfully, I got a brainwave in the middle of the night and found myself writing 3k at 1 in the morning like a man possessed. I outlined everything I wanted for this story, and woke up this morning ready to finish it. I'm extremely proud of this fic, and the fact that I was able to finish it and pump out a whole concise 10k. I hope you love it as much as I do.
> 
> Things to know before starting, universe wise: I aged up Peter Parker in this, and the way that him and Tony meet is completely different than canon, and not Homecoming Compliant once-so-ever. They meet for the first time when Peter is 19, so even though it takes a while for things to happen even after that, there isn't even a inkling of anything underage in here. This fic does go over some of the events of Avengers: Infinity War, as well as Avengers: Endgame, so, spoilers? I guess? Although if you haven't seen those movies, I don't really know why you're here. The events are slightly glossed over, and mildly changed to fit the narrative I wanted, as to be expected. Just wanted to give fair warning. Major Character death is tagged just because (you guys saw those movies, you know why) but there is no death between the main pairing when it comes to the conclusion.
> 
> Now that I've blabbered on for long enough, I think that's everything I had to cover. I hope you like this fic, and make sure to leave kudos, or a comment and let me know what you think!

Sometimes, it was hard not to look at Peter like he was the sun. 

***

Soulmates weren’t an exact science. Not everyone had one, and they weren’t always returned. Tony had remembered the statistic being around 30%, taught distantly to him in his youth by a teacher he could now barely remember. Not all matches were romantic either, some only meant to be platonic. Even though there wasn’t anything to back up platonic matches not being as strong, it was a common belief that romantic bonds were the most powerful. 

Tony grew up listening to all the fairy tales, mostly tucked under his blanket as his mother’s soft voice filtered through. She told him of beautiful princesses with long golden hair, who found brave princes or knights who would save them. Tony relished in the big dramatic fights, but would only admit to himself in the dark once alone that maybe his favorite part was the saving. 

Tony wasn’t born with words. Which was, okay. You only get your words once your soulmate was born, if you ever get them at all. Once Tony reached ten he had to wrestle with the conclusion that even though he was special, even though he was Tony Stark, someone important like his parents told him, he wasn’t in the 30% that got to have a soulmate. 

***

When Tony looked in the mirror, he couldn’t decide if he deserved this because he was a good man, or a very, very, bad man. 

It was a routine day in early August, only two months after Tony’s 25th birthday when he felt it. The sharp burning through his chest during another mind-numbing board meeting was enough to startle him. But, he gritted his teeth and was careful not to let anything slip as he felt the words, the _words_ , being carefully carved onto his chest. Once he was able to stumble out without causing any attention, the notion almost made him let out a hysterical laugh, him, _Tony Stark_ , wanting to be left unnoticed. 

He managed to make it to his bathroom on his private floor before unbuttoning his shirt with shaky hands. It wasn’t glowing, like some people had said. Tony had always thought they were liars anyway. No, instead, there were his words in neat black ink, on his left side, right above his heart. It was too much. He didn’t even want to read them, he didn’t want them to process, because then it would make them real. It would mean that he actually had a soulmate out there, and that was more than he could take. 

He hastily put his shirt back on. He didn’t want to see it anymore. He didn’t want to see _them_ , the words taunting him. He desperately wanted to go back to yesterday, before his soulmate was born. And _Christ_ \- Tony was entirely too sober for this. 

He went to the bar in the corner of the room, stumbling out of the bathroom. He poured himself a glass of whiskey and tried to ignore the shaking of his hands. He was disgusting. This was another way for the world to bend him over and fuck him. This was exactly what he deserved. He tried to think of what his soulmate would think about having him for a soulmate. He was already turning bitter, it wasn’t hard to imagine who he would become in his older age. He wondered briefly if he would become a ghost of his father. The thought was enough for him to throw the rest of the whiskey back harshly. 

It took him another hour, and a little buzz, for him to take his shirt off again. He traced over the words, trying to ignore how they made him feel. When he read what they said he felt like even more of a monster. What was he going to do? What would make his soulmate say that to him _first_?

So, he did the only thing he knew how to do when in emotional duress. He drank until he couldn’t tell which way was the ceiling, and which was the floor. He drank until his vision blacked out, and he woke up the next morning curled into a stiff ball on the floor feeling like death. 

When he finally got up and decided to start acting like a person again, he steeled himself. He wasn’t going to think about his soulmate anymore. They would be better off. 

And he wasn’t going to think about the black words carved harshly right above his heart, his real heart, and not the arc reactor he would get later. 

The words reading: _“Mr. Stark, I don’t feel so good.”_

***

Peter was one of the lucky ones, or so his Aunt May, and Uncle Ben had always told him. Soulmates weren’t the end all be all like most people thought they were though, his Aunt and Uncle were quick to rectify. His Aunt and Uncle were among the 65% of the population who never got a soulmate (the other 5% being unrequited words, which was usually as messy as it sounded). Though, Uncle Ben had always joked that he didn’t need a couple of words to tell him that May had been the one. Peter had always thought it was almost more romantic that way, you getting to choose instead of the universe deciding for you. 

But, Peter was always the kid with the bleeding heart so even he couldn’t deny getting misty at all the fairy tales, and stories of your other half being the perfect balance for you. He tried to imagine his soulmate, wherever they were, and whoever they were. It only took a few hours after his birth for his words to swirl onto his skin. Initially they were tiny, but almost like magic, as he grew the words grew with him, so that at sixteen they were fully to scale. 

He traced over his words constantly, a bad habit, nervous tic he developed ever since he was a kid. There was no truth behind the old myth that your bond partner could feel it whenever you touched your words, but sometimes Peter liked to pretend. It made it feel more real, and not like he was marked for someone that’s a needle in a haystack. 

So he used his words as a way of grounding himself, even if his bond partner would never feel it. And some nights, when it got lonely, or dark, he would try to trace over the bond. He would trace it over, and over, and over again until the pad of his pointer finger was numb and he could barely feel the skin over his chest anymore. He wondered where his words were on his partner. Sometimes, even though it’s rare, he liked to pretend that his soulmates words were in the same spot, on their chest, right over their heart. 

And on certain nights, when things got really bad, Peter would hold onto his words hoping, praying, that the other person could feel the love he was trying to send. Whoever was on the other side of, _“Whatever happens, you’re going to be okay.”_

***

When Peter was 14, he went on a school field trip that was supposed to be inconsequential. But then he wandered away from his class, and got bit by a radioactive spider, and then things ... were never really the same again.

***

He should’ve known that he was going to get caught. He should have been more careful. He was smart, and he knew his powers made him strong. His healing abilities made him almost indestructible, but he still knew he had limits. He just hadn’t expected things to go so south so quickly. 

Peter had been following the guys with the alien tech for a while, and he was so close to busting them, he knew it. He wondered if he delivered them all wrapped up like a nice package on the front steps of Stark Tower if Tony Stark would make him an Avenger. He had to hold back a laugh, it was a nice thought. A nice fantasy, really. It was nice to imagine Ironman himself ever giving him the time of day, he was nothing more than a scrappy kid from Queens, after all. 

But he wasn’t doing this for himself, he was doing it for the people like Mr. Delmar, or Ned’s little sister. He was doing it so they had a safe city to come home to, and grow old in. 

He tried to think of them after he miscalculated and got shot in the stomach, careening him to the ground. He only had one working webshooter, the other one fried and smelling vaguely of toast. Peter looked down at his stomach and saw a gaping, glowing blue hole and had barely enough time to think that fuck, that didn’t look good. It hurt so bad that it almost didn’t hurt and Peter felt like he was paralyzed, he couldn’t move. 

He shot aimlessly out, trying to latch onto something, anything that could ground him and pull him back. He was gonna lose, better yet, he was going to die, and it was all because he was so stupid as to think that he could handle this all by himself. God, he was such a _kid_. A snot-nosed brat, and he was going to die-

But then he could feel all the hairs on his body lifting up, in the way that they had only done once or twice before. His spidey-sense, he thought a little hazily, wondering when exactly everything had gotten so fuzzy. He heard a metallic buzzing light up the air above him and realized someone was coming. 

When he looked up and got his eyes to focus he realized it wasn’t just anyone flying in to save his ass - it was Ironman. Well, he really hoped he was there to save him. 

The rest of it passed in a blur, as Peter faded in and out. His stomach hurt so bad it was hard to breathe. For a moment he didn’t know if he was breathing at all, feeling far away. 

Then metal arms were touching him, pulling at him in a way that should’ve been painful, but Peter never wanted them to stop. He wanted the metal arms to keep touching him because anything was better than the feeling of the hole in the middle of his abdomen. He opened his mouth to try to speak but he couldn’t get any words out. He was trying. He became aware of the noises he _was_ making, little pained moans and whimpers. He tried again to speak, but all that came out was a wet gurgle as he realized his mouth was full of something. 

_Blood_ , his brain supplied faintly, in horror. His mouth was filled with blood, and now that most certainly wasn’t good. He needed to move, he needed to get up. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t. He saw though, those same metal arms circle around his waist so one large hand could rest over the glowing hole in his stomach. That’s when it clicked that the arms belonged to Ironman. It was then he realized that he was laying against the chest of the Ironman suit, and was in _Ironman’s arms_ , he thought a little hysterically. He was going to die in Ironman’s arms, and this was not at all how he pictured this fantasy going. He was about to joke as such if he could get his vocal chords working again. 

Instead, before he got the chance, another wave of pain crashed over him. It was enough to make him choke out, ever so politely despite it being overpowered by the droplets of blood falling from his mouth, “Mr. Stark, I don’t feel so good.” 

Before the world went black, Peter was certain he heard the words through the tiny speaker on the neck of Ironman suit: “Whatever happens, you’re going to be okay.”

And maybe things would be. 

***

Peter unfortunately, was used to waking up in strange places. 

What he wasn’t used to, was waking up in a sterile, mostly empty room, with a bright light shining in his eyes. He blinked his eyes a few times, feeling more alert. He had a few hazy memories of waking up then immediately going back under, so now was his time to really wake up, he supposed. 

Once his eyes focused, he noticed a few things at once. 

He was in a hospital room, or at least, what looked sort of like one. Enough so that he was nervous. 

A person was sitting in the chair a few feet from the bed Peter was laying in. The ~~person~~ , sorry, scratch that, _Tony Stark_ was sitting in the chair, staring at Peter. 

“Glad you’re awake.” Tony Stark said, and Peter wondered if he was dreaming. He had to be. But then even more memories filtered in, the ones that reminded him that _Ironman_ had saved him from being laid out like a squashed little bug. Then he remembered the words that he had said right before he passed out. But there was no way, Tony Stark couldn’t be his-

Mr Stark looked like he was going to say something, but Peter beat him to the punch. “Where am I?” He snapped his mouth shut afterwards. There were a million things going through his head, a million questions, and yet, that was the one that he blurted out. Oh well, at least it was one of the more pressing ones. He eyed the IV going into his arm precariously, and squinted over at one of the monitors. 

“The medical wing of the Tower,” Mr Stark said easily, like all of this was somehow normal. Peter had to have said his words, right? Peter racked his brain but he couldn’t even recall what he had said, it was all a blur. The only thing he could distinctly remember was the way his own words sounded coming from Mr Stark’s mouth. 

“So,” Mr Stark started, and Peter noted that he took a hand to rub at his wrist, just for a moment. “What’s a 19 year old college kid who lives with their Aunt in Queens doing fighting guys with tech like _that_?” 

Peter slumped at the question. He guessed the cat was out of the metaphorical bag. Kind of hard to keep up the whole secret identity business once you neared death and lost your mask. Plus, who knew what kind of resources Mr Stark had to look him up, he probably knew about every one of Peter’s transgressions all the way back to daycare. 

So, Peter took a breath, looked at the wall for a second, and tried to get his thoughts in order. He played with his hands that he folded into his lap and thought desperately of where to start, where to even _begin_. Because he’d been doing the superhero/vigilante thing alone for so long he’d never even told anyone before, he didn’t even know how he would tell someone. He figured his soulmate was as good of a place to start as any, even if the word sent a sick little flash down his spine as he thought it. 

So he told him. He told him about everything. He told him about how he got bit by the radioactive spider when he was 14 (something that made Mr Stark flinch). He told him about how he got his powers. He didn’t tell him about Uncle Ben because that was something he didn’t want to get into, that was almost too much, too personal. He was already giving away Spider-Man he didn’t want to give away his Uncle Ben too. He told him about Aunt May instead, and how she was his favorite person. He told him about Ned, and MJ, being the most vague about them because they didn’t deserve to be dragged into this, whatever this was, anyway. But it felt good to tell him those things, he was willing to admit. He felt like he could tell him anything, and a part of him wanted to. But, if Mr Stark wasn’t going to address the elephant in the room, then he wasn’t going to either. 

He also told him what he had gotten up to as Spider-Man, doing his absolute best to completely gloss over the building falling on him bit. “Really, I was fine.” He assured. “I have super strength, and super-healing, so like, it kicked my ass, but I was fine after like three or four days, I promise.” 

Finally, he got more to the present and finished by informing him that he was a sophomore at Columbia, a double major in Chemical Engineering and Biochemistry. He took a decent pride in insisting that even with the vigilante side gig, he was still keeping his grades up. 

Once he finished, he realized that Mr Stark had only interrupted him at three places the whole time he was talking, and he flushed. He went to sit up, but felt a slight pull against his skin, and was reminded of the reason why he was there in the first place. “Wait, what happened to those guys, and how did I get here?” 

Mr Stark at least seemed to be expecting the question. “We thought you were a goner” his voice was uncharacteristically soft. “But I guess you have some pretty good healing powers after all.” His expression shuttered. “All the bad guys have been taken into SHIELD custody.”

Peter deflated. 

After a second, he lifted up his shirt, and saw only a faint pink circle adorning the skin of his stomach. He traced his finger over it for a moment, hesitantly, before coming back to himself. He shot Mr Stark a grin that he hoped didn’t look like a wince. “I'm pretty hard to kill, unfortunately for them.”

“Are you usually this reckless?” Mr Stark asked.

And okay, he wasn’t expecting _that_.

Peter frowned, despite himself. “Reckless like telling the whole world my address?” He said blandly, and tried his best not to let any anger show in his words. But reckless? _Reckless_? “I don’t think I was being reckless.”

Mr Stark crossed his arms and Peter tried valiantly not to focus on that, or the way his veins and tendons popped out like strings on a coiled violin. “You were getting vaporized in a onesie.”

“Not a onesie.” Peter corrected automatically. “It may not be intimidating but it’s a misdirection, and stronger than it looks. Plus, it has a fully functioning AI, asshole.” He had the decency to say the last word quietly, under his breath. From the look Mr Stark gave him, he was pretty sure he heard it though. 

“A fully functioning AI? Didn’t realize they were teaching that to freshman”

“I’m a sophomore.” Peter wanted to roll his eyes at himself. He was going to completely ignore that Mr Stark was his soulmate because he was pissing him off. And yep, he definitely wasn’t going to be thinking about that. Wasn’t going to process that the man in front of him was his soulmate. Christ. “And I was in robotics club in high school.” 

“How long have you been doing this by yourself?”

And that line of questioning makes him take pause. It was too hard to answer, so he evaded it. “Someone has to look out for the little guy.”

It was quiet for a long time, and Peter antsily tried to figure out if this was it. If Mr Stark was going to say anything else, or if he was done. May was gonna be mad that he mouthed off a billionaire, but he didn’t _care_. 

“What makes you,” Mr Stark started, then stopped abruptly, clearing his throat. Peter was surprised he caved first. “Why do you...” he trailed off.

Peter decided to take pity on him. He pulled himself into a sitting position, trying to tune out how the sheets on the bed felt scratchy against his skin. “When you can do the things that I can, but you don’t. And then the bad things happen?” He let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, and tilted his head up so he could look at Mr Stark in the eyes. He deliberated for a moment if Mr Stark could see him. Really see him. Had seen him. “They happen because of you.”

When he concluded, Mr Stark broke his eyes away, which Peter did as well, instead focusing his attention to look at his hands. He willed them not to tremble, and for the stinging in the corner of his eyes to pass. 

“So that’s your MO,” Mr Stark somehow managed to sound casual. “Look out for the little guy, make the world a better place, friendly neighborhood spider-boy.”

“Spider- _Man_ ,” he corrected, not able to help himself, and hoped the grin he put on was as wolffish as he felt. “But yeah,” he agreed lamely. 

Tony thankfully only hesitated for a second, then said, “Alright well, first thing’s first. You need a new suit.” 

***

And so, that’s how it went. They didn’t talk about their thing. They didn’t address it. A crazy, hurt part in the back of Peter’s brain questioned if Mr Stark even realized, or if he was mistaken somehow. 

But he knew his words. He had them seared into his brain, seared into his very being. He could feel them tingle whenever him and Mr Stark were in the same room. It was a new kind of torture. 

Tony took him down to the lab and Peter showed him his suit, with a little bit of reservation, but also a lot of pride. He told him a little more about his powers, and confided in him about his senses. He introduced Mr Stark to KAREN, and the little details he liked about his suit, the ones that he wanted him to see, the ones that he thought Mr Stark would be the most impressed with. 

The first mockup that Mr Stark pulled up had Peter wanting to laugh. It was a gaudy metallic thing with a big spider emblem on the center of the chest that looked too geometric, and almost nothing like the spider logo Peter had designed himself. Peter huffed, messing with the hologram. “You wish, tin man” He said, which made Mr Stark laugh.

They worked together until they settled on a design that they both could live with. A light-weight, durable cloth that fit snugly across Peter’s lithe shape, a brilliant red, and deep blue along the sides of his ribs and his thighs. Mr Stark had complained that it looked like he was wearing tube socks, but Peter loved it. 

***

It had felt like a beginning, but it really wasn’t. It was the beginning of some things, maybe the start of Spider-Man as a _superhero_ instead of a _vigilante_. Or, perhaps the start of Peter joining the team - joining the Avengers. 

But it surely wasn’t the beginning of him and Tony, like he thought it would be. 

And when did he go from calling him Mr Stark, to Tony in his head? He started doing it in person too, which should have been his first clue. Peter wasn’t resilient in the same way that Tony seemed to be. He didn’t like denying himself things that he could have. Tony though, so far, wasn’t someone he could have. 

So, he tried his best not to think about Tony most of the time. But sometimes it was hard to look over at him, and see him, knowing what he was supposed to be to Peter’s. Peter though, was just a 19 year-old scrappy kid that Tony had nicked up from the street. He saved his ass, but was never going to look at him like anything more than a kid, not like an equal, and it pissed Peter off. 

He let Tony design him a suit. 

And he let Tony take it away, in a misguided attempt to teach him responsibility. Like Tony was his guardian or something. A small part of Peter wanted to resent him, for how he started their relationship. By saving Spider-Man, but not really giving a fuck about Peter Parker. 

Though, Peter had always been honest, realistic, even, so he knew there would be no getting over Tony. The world seemed all too privy to the knowledge of who Peter would have a weakness for. 

He wished it had started the day he woke up in the medical wing. He wished Tony would have just said something instead of pretending like it never happened. Like they weren’t connected. 

But no, in the beginning, he thought Tony was kind of an ass. He had no right to come onto Peter’s territory and call him reckless. He was a lot of things, but reckless was not one. And it certainly had no validity coming out of Tony Stark’s mouth. 

He thought he was an ass right up until one day they were in his lab, working on the specs for his suit. Tony fixed a line of code that was ruining a whole section. Once he finally figured out the mistake he let out a loud whoop that had Peter startling back. Instead of asking if he was okay, he had just given Peter one of his large smiles with his eyes lighting up and turning warm. 

And, oh. 

Oh no.

Peter felt it instantly, almost like a punch in the gut. He almost wanted to throw up from the intensity of it. He realized that there wasn’t going to be anyone else. Whether Tony felt it back or not, he was going to be lost forever. 

But it hurt, not receiving it back. It was lonely watching him hang the moon. 

***

As much as he hated to admit it, Tony fell for Peter almost instantly. When he was dying, and unconscious, Tony let himself think he was beautiful. He looked like an angel. But a biblical angel, the ones that shined so dazzlingly intense that they burned your eyes just looking at them. Then despite everything, he healed. He woke up and was somehow so much more than Tony could have imagined. Tony couldn’t imagine a universe where he wasn’t enamored with him. He was so bright, and full of life. So full of righteous fury it made Tony’s heart beat faster just thinking about him. He was everything Tony could ever have dreamed of, smart as hell, quick as a whip, and not afraid to stand up to him, or take his shit. It was the best and the worst all wrapped into one.

Because the kid didn’t deserve him, didn’t deserve to be dragged into his life where people died, and even if they survived they came back worse for the wear. And God, he was just a kid. He was legal, Tony knew that, but it didn’t make him feel _better_. It all felt like a cruel joke from the universe, tempting him with the most perfect person, but not letting him have him. 

He never brought up the soulmate equation because he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to trap Peter, or have him stay over some fucked up sort of obligation. Soulmates weren’t a perfect science. They didn’t have to mean anything. 

He told this to himself as he scrubbed over his words in the shower. No matter how hard he scrubbed, the darkness of the inky words never ceased, they stayed just as dark as the day they appeared. He thought of their first interaction. How he had begged Peter to hold on before he had even known his name yet, only knowing that he had said his words, and that he was dying. Once he was alive, nothing else mattered but his health and safety. Tony wasn’t going to jeopardize that. He had only ever hurt the people he loved, and just because Peter was his soulmate he wasn’t fooled into thinking he would be the exception. He was doing his job, he defended to himself, he was protecting him - _saving_ him. 

But it was hard...especially when Peter would slink over and fix something that Tony was working on, like it was second-nature, not like he wasn’t the only person that Tony let close like this. The only person who could keep up with Tony like this. He would look at Tony with such awe over some of the things he said that it made Tony want to say more, just to see that look. It made him want to do dumb things, like show off, or run his mouth. But worst of all, it made him _want_. And that was dangerous. 

He was supposed to protect Peter. He knew deep down that that was his job now, one that he would take seriously. 

***

Tony took his job of protecting Peter seriously. So seriously. So seriously, in fact that he couldn’t figure out how he had let Peter somehow climb aboard this ship when he didn’t even know where the fuck it was going. 

“I told you to stay on the ground!” He shouted, as loud as he’d ever been. He was so angry he could barely see straight. “You were supposed to stay on the ground!”

“You can’t tell me what to do.” Peter had shot back, tilting his chin up in defiance. Tony should have known. Peter was always throwing himself headfirst into a fight, it was exhausting. ~~But it was what Tony maybe loved most about him.~~

“I don’t know if you noticed,” Tony let his voice take on a relic of calm that he wasn’t feeling before he shouted again. “But we’re in _fucking space_. I can’t protect you here.” 

“I don’t need you to protect me.” Peter seemed pissed off, and wasn’t this the basis to every argument they’d ever had? “I can protect myself. You needed backup so I’m here.” 

“I don’t want your backup!” Tony seethed, and he knew he took it a step too far when Peter didn’t quip anything back, he just fell silent. 

“Well you’re getting it.” He heard Peter say quietly, mostly under his breath, and he wondered if he was even supposed to have heard it, but then Peter was squaring his jaw. “You don’t get to sacrifice yourself alone, not if I can help it.” When Tony turned around, so mad he couldn’t even look at him, Peter only continued. “You jump, I jump, okay?” 

“Can you stop making pop-culture references for five minutes? This is real. This is space. You could die, Peter.” 

“And so could you.” 

Their words settled in the air around them, and that was the crux of it all, wasn’t it? Neither one of them was wrong, and it made Tony want to gnash his teeth together until they were ground down into little nubs. Peter was the most stubborn, infuriating, brave person he had ever met and if Tony fucked up there was a possibility they could lose him. 

But then another voice joined the fray, and right, he didn’t even have time to argue with Peter because he had to deal with Dr. Strange now, and Thanos, and his entire alien army. And couldn’t Peter get that he didn’t want him to have any part in this? 

“Am I interrupting something?” Dr. Strangelove asked, like the asshole he was, and Tony kind of wanted to throttle him. At least a little bit. 

Tony said, “Yes,” at the same time Peter replied, “No.” 

The air tensed again.

“Right.” Dr. Strange said, like he was privy to things that Tony didn’t know, and he _hated_ that. Then he paused, “I’m confused as to your relationship, here. Is he your...ward?” 

Tony wanted to sputter, but apparently Peter had gotten good at composing himself in the five minutes so far he’d spent in space. He bounded over like he didn’t have a care in the world, like this was a fucking field trip for him. He shook Dr. Strange’s hand and introduced himself as Peter first, then followed it with a sheepish ‘Spider-Man.’

Tony and Dr. Strange fought, because he didn’t know how to do anything else at this point. But Peter was just looking at him expectantly the whole time, like he was waiting for something. 

After they defeated Thanos’s Squidward looking goon, Peter sat down next to him on the steps on the inside of the ship. He gave Tony one of his tiny smiles that Tony knew he had to save the whole universe to keep around. 

“I told you you needed me.” If the words had come out of anyone’s mouths it would have felt like a tell-off. But it was Peter, so of course it didn’t. Tony not needing him was never the problem, he wanted to say, but knew it would be a bad idea. The opposite was the problem, actually. But, he did need Peter, and the kid had done good. It wasn’t that Tony was underestimating him, he knew that Peter was resilient, and smart. Hell, if there was anyone who had an even higher chance of coming out of fight with suicidally stupid odds it was Peter. But that didn’t mean that Tony still didn’t want to protect him.

He would blame it all on that small, hopeful smile though, when he leaned over and put a hand to each one of Peter’s shoulders. Like he was knighting him. Like what he was about to bestow was an honor and not a death-sentence. “Congrats kid,” He hoped his voice came out light, and wasn’t filled with all the dread he felt. “You’re an Avenger now.” 

***

He should have predicted that Peter would corner him eventually. 

He was trying not to panic as he tinkered with the ship. Tinkering was good. It helped him think, helped him problem-solve. Thanos was one problem he had to face repeatedly that he didn’t know how to solve. Dr. Strange had told them there was only one outcome where they’d make it out alive, and Tony didn’t like those odds. So, he was tinkering.

“What are you working on?” Peter asked suddenly, extremely close. Tony wasn’t expecting him, too caught up in his own thoughts, so when his voice seemed to magically appear next to his ear he jumped nearly a foot back. “Sorry,” Peter said instantly, “I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

Tony didn’t say anything, he just went back to what he was _trying_ to work on. It was better if he didn’t think about Peter, actually. It made things simpler. 

“Tony,” Peter said in the way that implied that Tony was the one being unreasonable, and that was it.

“You didn’t mean to scare me.” Tony spat Peter’s own statement back with venom. “And yet, here you are. In space, with things you don’t understand, with forces I can’t-“ He cut himself off before he could say ‘ _protect you from’_ , because he knew that would set Peter off. It was a common argument, one that fit like a glove. 

“Are we still pretending this conversation is about me staying on the ground, or do you finally want to talk about what it’s actually about?” 

Tony didn’t, he really didn’t. He watched Peter work his jaw, then look away before he glanced back, seeming to set his shoulders. “I know I’m your soulmate.” Peter said, like it was a fact. Like he was saying the sky was blue, or that it was a Tuesday morning, not like it was the one fact that completely shattered Tony’s entire existence. 

“I know I’m your soulmate,” He repeated, and apparently there was more. “And I know I’m not what you want.” His throat clicked as he swallowed. “But can we stop pretending it’s not what it is?” 

“Kid-“ Tony started, not even really knowing what he had decided on saying yet, but Peter shot him down with all the fury Tony hated ~~loved~~. 

“I’m _not_ a kid.” Peter growled. 

“I can’t deal with this right now.” Tony said, because it was the only thing he _could_ say to Peter right now that was true. He couldn’t say all the other things. Not like this. Not on some planet he didn’t even know the name of because Peter was about to die, and it was all his fault because he was the one who dragged him into all of this. 

What he said must have been funny because Peter laughed, even though it sounded tinny, and humorless. “Well I want to deal with this right now. Even if I’m not-“ he didn’t continue for a minute, and Tony deliberated if this was the end of the conversation. If this was going to be the only time they addressed it, and he couldn’t even correct Peter on the fact that it wasn’t about want. It had never been about _want_. It had been about doing the right thing, even if every moment it felt like it wasn’t. 

“I want to have this conversation with you if I’m going to die.” Peter finished finally. 

Tony didn’t even consciously realize that he was crowding into Peter’s space until they were merely inches apart. He grabbed onto Peter’s shoulders and wanted to shake him. He wasn’t allowed to talk like that, to treat his life so flippantly. 

“You are not going to die.” Tony said viciously, hoping desperately that Peter understood. That he got it. It wasn’t about _want_. 

But then Peter was retracting his suit, or at least the top part. Tony watched as the upgraded nanites retracted slowly, like paint over a canvas, but in reverse. It was beautiful. _He_ was beautiful. Tony couldn’t figure out what he was doing until he saw it. He saw them. 

_His words_ , he thought absently as he raked over the inky black letters on Peter’s chest, right over his heart. They were in the same place as Tony’s, and he could hear like a voice in the back of his head what his Mother had told him when he was just a boy, how the strongest of pairings would have their soul-words in the same place. It was the universe’s way of saying that they were cut from the same cloth, two sides of the same coin. 

Tony reached forward, like a man possessed. He wasn’t in control, but he touched anyway. His shaking hands glided over, _“Whatever happens, you’re going to be okay.”_ He remembered saying them, half out of his mind with panic and confusion because this vigilante with too much bravado had just said his words. But it was different seeing them carved over Peter’s skin in person. He was marked for him. When he touched them, Peter shuddered, and he could _feel_ it. It was terrifying. 

It was too much. 

Tony stumbled back like he had been burned, and was careful to put as much distance between them as he could. 

Then Peter asked for the one thing Tony couldn’t give him, his voice cracking. “Can you show me mine, please?” 

Tony turned away. That would be the last nail in his coffin. It would be too intimate. He already had seen Peter’s words, having him see his own would be too intimate. Peter didn’t need to know the words that kept him up at night. 

“No.” He said firmly, and pretended like he couldn’t feel Peter’s heart breaking. He was already too close. 

He pulled himself even farther away.

“What you’re going to do,” it was an enormous feat to keep his voice steady. “You’re going to go back to the group, and we’re all going to figure a way out of this. Because that’s what’s important right now.” He hesitated, then figured with Peter’s stubbornness if he didn’t throw him a bone he might never listen, and actually go, like he should, like Tony was warning him to. “If we survive this, then we’ll talk.” 

Peter put his suit back on without another word, and turned on his heel. Tony was glad. It was easier to let him walk away if he didn’t have to look at his face. 

***

Hours later, when Thanos snapped, he wished Peter hadn’t had put on his mask, just so he could have one last good memory of seeing his face. 

He saw everyone start to turn to dust in slow motion, but he kept his eyes on Peter. It was fucked, but it would be okay as long as Peter was okay, as long as Peter didn’t turn to dust. 

But then Peter pulled up his hands, and Tony had to watch as his fingertips, then his fingers, and then his whole hand turned to ash. He looked at Tony with wide, scared eyes. 

When Peter died in his arms, clenching onto him until he was nothing in Tony’s embrace, he wished he had been a little more selfish, and showed him his words. 

When he died he said, “Tony, I don’t feel so good.” He didn’t even know. He didn’t even know that those were the words that tore Tony apart, and were continuing to do so. He mirrored his words from the first time Tony almost lost him in the worst way because this time Tony was actually losing him. It was the worst pain Tony had ever felt. It didn’t even hurt, really, it felt like he had just lost a limb. Like there was something in him that was now _missing_. They had never bonded, and he couldn’t imagine how bonded pairs must feel when losing their other half. 

All he could do was stare at the empty place where Peter had just fell back, on his back. He stared at his hands as the ashes that once held Peter floated off into the air. He had lost him, and he hadn’t even gotten to have him. 

***

Tony spent the next five years working tirelessly. He didn’t do it out of moral obligation to the universe, or the other bullshit he spouted when pressed. He did it solely to get Peter back. Because there had to be a way. There had got to be a way.

Finally, they figure out time-travel. It makes sense that it exists, I mean, if aliens and demigods could, why not time-travel, right? They get the stones, and he doesn’t even feel bad about sacrificing himself once he sees Peter, once he gets to hold him in his arms again, this time with him solid, and not falling away. Because as long as Peter was okay, then he was okay, alive or in death.

So, he snapped. 

***

When Peter lost Tony, things were...not good for a while. 

He stopped patrolling, he stopped being Spider-Man. He stopped eating, he had to be reminded to drink water occasionally just to not die. He _remembered_ dying, he remembered turning to ash. It was followed by nothing, just all black, and it only felt like a few seconds before he was waking up and being thrown onto the battlefield. He had seen Tony, who was alive, and that was all that mattered. Tony looked at him like he’d seen a ghost, and Dr. Strange’s hasty declaration that it had been 5 years for them rang somewhere in the back of his head, but it was hard to process.

Then Tony hugged him. Had hugged him like he was someone important, like someone he missed, and that’s what hurt. He could have had so much, but instead he got nothing. 

He couldn’t even be mad at him for sacrificing himself for the world. Even if it made Peter feel selfish, and angry because how _dare_ he get left behind. How _dare_ the world be so unfair as to give Tony to Peter only to take him away. He wanted to snap himself, or maybe break something, do something crazy, but instead he only felt empty. He felt hollowed out, like he wasn’t even Peter anymore. 

They never bonded so he never got bonding sickness, and Peter felt even more broken because he couldn’t even grieve properly. He felt heartsick but he didn’t even get to be physically sick. He knew that sometimes bond sickness would kill you, and a dark twisted part of him wanted to die a little bit. He couldn’t imagine living a full life without Tony. 

Everywhere he turned he saw his face. Whether it was the actual memorials, or his own memories of him that he couldn’t escape. He felt like the only person in the world who wasn’t mourning Ironman, but instead, Tony himself. 

He never even got to see his words. He never got to see his marking on Tony’s skin. 

When Dr. Strange came to him almost two years exactly after Tony’s death to say that he might have a way to bring him back, for Peter, it’s not even a question. Peter suited up without blinking twice, and asked what he needed to do. 

***

Waking up from the dead wasn’t too different than waking up from an extremely large nap. Which was unfortunate. Tony wasn’t optimistic enough to hope for an afterlife, but maybe he hoped for _something_. A nice light show, perhaps. Hell, even floating aimlessly through the abyss might have been better than the nothingness he received. 

What he got instead was waking up, and then immediately he started falling. He fell until he saw a familiar ring of orange, and then he passed through, making impact onto a very hard floor. 

He winced, but sat up suddenly, looking around. He recognized Dr. Strange’s weird hogwarts looking house, and he was cool with that, he got that. What he didn’t get was how he got from fighting Thanos to being here. 

But then he saw Peter

And Peter looked, _wrecked._

He was a little skinnier, but he also looked a little older, a little broader too, if that was possible. He had dark bags under his eyes, and this time he was looking at Tony like _he_ was the ghost. 

He made a choked off noise, and that was when Tony noticed he was crying. 

“Peter,” he glanced around. “What’s going on?”

At his words, a bit more raspy than usual, but hey, death gave you dry throat, who knew? the floodgates seemed to open for Peter and he was rushing forward pulling Tony into a bone-crushing hug. Tony held on.

“You were dead.” Peter sobbed into his shirt. “You were gone and-“ his voice sounded anguished. “ _You left me_.”

Tony's breath hitched, and his chest tightened as he heard how much pain Peter was in. He always thought Peter would just move on. He never realized how much Peter would miss him if he was gone. He had spent so much time protecting Peter that he didn’t realize he was only ever just pushing him away. 

*

Peter took him back to his apartment, and snuck him in so he could hide him away. Obviously they would tell people soon, they would have to, but for right now, Peter needed a little selfishly for it to be just them. Tony needed to get reacclimated anyway. 

Peter tells him about the world in the past two years, and everything that’s happened. He purposely focuses on everyone but himself. 

When Tony asks about him, though, it’s like a dam breaks and all his brokenness, and fury comes out altogether. Because how _dare_ Tony leave him. How _dare_ Tony to take away his choice, and decide for him. How _dare_ Tony decide that they were already doomed before they could even begin. 

He tells this all to Tony, and watches his face crumble. 

“I’m not a kid.” He stated fiercely, echoing his words from the planet that almost took everything away from him. “I get to make my own choices.” 

They fight until they’re just going in circles. Finally Peter asked what he was so scared of. And then he asked the question that he really wants to know the answer to. “Why am I not enough for you?” 

“Peter,” Tony started, but now he was the one that looked wrecked. It gave Peter a sick sort of pleasure watching him suffer for once. “You’ve always been enough. Don’t ever think that. I just-“ He stopped himself, and Peter was ready to scream.

“Just what!” This time he does scream. And that’s it. Tony has to know everything, cards on the table. “Tony, I wanted to die without you.” Tony made a pained sound, but Peter barreled on. “I didn’t register to go back to school, I didn’t sleep. I stopped talking to my friends. My spidey-senses stopped working, I stopped patrolling.” He was crying freely now. “I stopped being _Spider-Man_.” He wiped his face with the back of his hand, hastily. “I didn’t want to do anything anymore. I didn’t even want to live anymore. Not without you. Don’t you get that? You don’t even let me protect _you_.” 

Tony looked horrified, but there was something he needed to say. “I’m your soulmate. But fuck, Tony, you’re supposed to be mine. Can’t we just be happy? Can’t we let ourselves be happy? Because you _protecting_ me,” he said the word like it was poison, “Has only brought me pain.”

He made direct eye contact with Tony because he wanted him to hear what he had to say next. “You keep going on about what I deserve. But I don’t give a shit about what I deserve. How about I get what I want. Because all I ever wanted was you. Even when I was 19, and you were an asshole and called me reckless, I wanted you. Not Ironman, not CEO Tony Stark, not even Mr Stark, just you, Tony.” He wanted to lay it out clearly. “It’s just you and me here Tony, right here, right now. And I’m asking you to let me in, for me to be enough.”

Tony didn’t move or say anything at first. But then, then he took the smallest step forward, like he couldn’t help himself. “Please?” Peter asked in a tiny voice. 

He’ll always wonder what did it, what words exactly made Tony surge forward, and finally, _finally_ , pull him into a mind-numbing kiss. Peter kissed back like he was starving for air, like he needed Tony to breathe, and he kind of did a little bit. 

“You’re enough.” Tony said into his mouth as Peter held on tight, not wanting to let go. “You’ve always been enough. You’re enough. You’re _enough_.” 

Peter continued to cry as they broke away from their kiss, and held onto Tony so tightly he was worried he might not ever be able to let go. “Don’t leave me, again.” He begged, not even caring how desperate he seemed. “Please don’t leave me.”

“I won’t.” Tony had shushed him, kissing the top of his head. But it wasn’t like his words mattered, Peter didn’t believe him. 

***

Despite everything, and what Peter expected, Tony never rescinded his words, or his promise. When he wakes up to Tony still in bed (after _just sleeping_ all night) he’s almost more surprised to not see him gone. 

They sit down and have their talk, like grown ups. Well, Peter was the grown up, Tony still seemed hesitant until Peter eventually snapped. “I’m 23 fucking years old. I could have a mortgage. You’re either going to treat me like an adult, like an _equal_ , or we’re done.” A part of him meant it, even if he knew deep down he wouldn’t actually leave. But it whipped Tony into shape enough that he conceded and actually did start treating Peter like he was an equal, and not just some kid with a crush. 

Later is when they both got to be vulnerable. They whispered things to each other in the dark that were too hard to say in the light of day. Peter told him about Uncle Ben and how the loss of him changed every fiber of his being. He also told Tony about losing him. About how it was the worst pain he’d ever felt, and how he felt like he wasn’t even a person anymore afterwards. How it wasn’t until he became Spider-Man that he felt like he had a purpose again, and had a way to honor Ben’s death. Like he didn’t die for nothing. 

Tony told Peter about his Mom. How she was kind, soft-spoken, and did her best so he didn’t turn out like his Dad. He told Peter about how scared he was the first time they met, and how he thought Peter was going to die before he even got a chance to meet him and it terrified him. It made him want to do anything to protect Peter, even if it was from himself. 

He told Peter about the five years he had to live with losing him. He told him how he understood how he felt, because he had felt the same way. They had both let happen the one thing that they had been preventing most. Despite all of Tony’s best efforts, they ended up losing each other anyway. Although, perhaps the universe had a plan after all, because she had brought them back together. 

Lastly, he told Peter about how he loved him instantly. His words were whispered into Peter’s ear so that nobody else would get to have them, because they were all his, they belonged to him. He loved him like it was the easiest thing in the world. He didn’t even have to think about it, he just felt it, like a magnetic pull. He was a fool to not consider that Peter was the same way. 

“We wasted so much time,” He said, and he sounded so morose. 

“ _You_ wasted time.” Peter chastised, but softened and pressed a quick kiss to his lips, hoping it was welcome. They had only kissed the one time before, after Peter’s confession. “But I think I just bought us some time.”

Then even later, when night was blending into morning they started kissing, and kind of never stopped. Peter let Tony crawl inside him like he belonged there. Like he hadn’t carved out his own place for himself deep inside Peter since day one. 

Peter asked him once again to show him his words, this time Tony acquiesced. Peter traced over the words. The words he didn’t even know he’d been repeating when he almost died a second time. He pressed his mouth over them, and kissed them until he hoped they didn’t hurt. That the memory of him didn’t hurt.

Peter cried as soon as Tony was fully inside him. He pulled him close and begged him to not leave. Tony promised he wouldn’t, and this time he believed him. 

***

It only took three days of them being cooped up in Peter’s apartment, for them to bond. Peter wanted it more than he could put into words, but he didn’t want to pressure Tony into anything, especially not a lifetime bond with someone he possibly didn’t even want. 

But when Tony was the one to bring it up and offer, Peter agreed, although he was a little suspicious at the sudden change of heart. 

“I want to prove it to you. That I won’t push you away anymore. I like being with you, but I like who I am with you.” Tony had told him, before pulling his hand over the arc and slowly continuing it so that it was resting directly over his heart, just barely under where his words were etched. “This is yours, all yours. Forever. For as long as I can keep getting brought back.” 

Peter had just kissed him in response because he didn’t know what else to do. 

***

That night, they both sliced their palms, and held them together, as their blood mixed and their bond sealed. Peter could feel Tony inside of his head, and it felt like he belonged there, like he was something that had always been missing. 

***

When Peter’s blood mixed with his own, Tony felt the extra rush of emotions, the ones that he knew didn’t come from him. He had never let himself imagine what it would feel like to be bonded. But Peter fit in the back of his head like he already had his own home there, and Tony understood that this was what he had been needing his whole life, he was just too caught up in his own bullshit to realize it.

***

As much as Peter loved mornings with Tony, the evenings were becoming his favorite. He loved arguing over what they were going to have for dinner that night, like either of them really cared that much. He loved when Tony would come up behind him, and wrap his arms around his waist, before resting his head on his shoulder to look at whatever had grabbed Peter’s attention. He loved when Tony would pick his brain, like Peter was someone he respected, like he would somehow always have the right answer, even when he didn’t. 

But most of all, he loved having Tony let him in. 

He knew eventually their little paradise that they had made in Peter’s apartment was going to come to an end. They were going to have to face the world someday, probably someday soon, as the superhero-grind never really stopped. But maybe this time it would be okay, because they were doing it together. 

The evenings were his favorite because after dinner they would watch movies together on Peter’s laptop, and would pretend to not agree until they were watching whatever Peter had suggested first. Tony always thought he was so sneaky, but Peter could see right past him. He always could. 

The evenings were also his favorite because Tony would start kissing him before the movie would even be over, like he had been waiting the whole time to reach over, but was being patient until he couldn’t take it anymore. He never knew why Tony was so hardwired to deny himself the things that he loved, but Peter supposed it was his job now to change that, to recode him into someone that would let himself love freely. 

He would kiss Peter like he couldn’t get enough, like Peter was the only other person on the planet. Peter loved him, so he got it. He would let Tony push him back until he was laying flat on the bed and Tony could crawl on top. He would let Tony kiss him until it eventually turned into something more, but he would kiss him even during the times that it didn’t and it petered off with them being too sleepy to continue. 

The evenings were his favorite because without fail, at the end of every one, he got to have Tony in his bed. Tony would wrap his arms around him as their legs tangled together, and his fingers would always trace over his words, even if Peter was still wearing a shirt. It was fine because those words belonged to him, they were his, just like his own words were Peter’s. Sometimes, he would fall asleep first, and Peter would get to marvel at how good his arms felt around him, how it felt like he was finally home. Peter felt protected, but even more importantly, he felt loved, and that was enough. 

***

The mornings with Peter were Tony’s favorite. He didn’t even mind that Peter’s lumpy mattress made his back feel like a bent spoon. It was worth it because every morning now he got to see Peter’s smile, the one that was just for him. He couldn’t figure out why he had denied himself this for so long. 

Peter was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen when he would sleepily get out of bed, always sure to give Tony a kiss like he was going somewhere, like Tony would ever go somewhere now that he got a taste of what _having_ Peter was like. 

It was when Peter was scrambling eggs (because he insisted his were way better than Tony’s), his hair messy, and the band of his boxers half flipped down that Tony came to the conclusion that he would give everything up for him. He would give up SI, hell, he would even give up being Ironman if he ever asked. But Peter wouldn’t, and Tony wondered if that was why the universe put them together.

He had never gotten this far in his fantasies, had never allowed himself to get this far. He didn’t know what being with Peter was going to look like. He didn’t know how they would get a house together, or how things would work with them. But it didn’t matter, because he knew now that no matter what happened they would figure it out, together, instead of separately. 

And when Peter shot him a grin over his shoulder Tony realized with startling clarity the point he had been missing all along. He didn’t have to _protect_ Peter. He just had to _love_ him, and that was enough. 

***

Their bonding wasn’t an end to their issues, but in ways it was a beginning. A beginning to a life of fitting each other inside, instead of holding the other back. Peter got to look at Tony like he hung the moon, and Tony continued to look at Peter like he was the sun. Maybe together they could make their own solar system.

**Author's Note:**

> While you're already down here, why dontcha leave a comment! You can find me on twitter and tumblr @venomondenim. Let's talk Starker. <3 - Ash


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